


A Dead Bird's Singing

by Scribblindown



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson loves his big brother Levi, Dimension Travel, HES SOFFTTTTT
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29286396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribblindown/pseuds/Scribblindown
Summary: A series of short stories revolving around the Robins in a world surrounded by walls and Titans.Latest: In which Levi is the first Robin, can’t remember his past, and can only remember a life filled with war, strife, and cannibalistic monsters.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Koriand'r & Garfield Logan & Raven & Victor Stone, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Lamentation

**Author's Note:**

> \- His civilian alias in this and many of my other Robin-centric fanfics is John Wayne. John for his real middle name (and his biological dad’s name) and Wayne for obvious reasons. I just didn’t plan on the coincidence of him matching with a cowboy haha.  
> \- Overuse of OCs for background characters.  
> \- Slightly OOC Dick Grayson. I know that Damian is the bigger "brat" out of all the Robins, but I just felt like if Dick had to go through all this, he wouldn't give it his all due to the emotions that he's going through, therefore the characterization I gave him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin thinks of himself to be sleeping in a normal flower field.  
> He isn't the only Titan around.

Dick Grayson didn’t do wishful thinking. 

He prided himself in logic and reasoning, fueled by a curiosity for knowledge and a thirst for strategy to get him out of situations. And while he wasn’t a devil from hell or a heartless shell like the other cadets like to say behind his back, he knew that he was led by his position as a soldier first and a human being, perhaps, second. 

But there was something about the people that were sitting next to him, the way their smiles and jokes bounced off one another that filled his heart with a warmth like he was laying in the sun’s rays. 

“More potatoes, little robin?” Mary Grayson asked gracefully, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as she held the bowl out to him. 

Robin blinked at the woman beside him, slowly taking in her appearance that reflected his own so well. 

“Yes...please,” he found his voice, carefully watching the veins along her thin wrists flex as she scooped out an extra serving for him. 

“Oh! Oh!” Garfield Logan said, waving his arms, shooting out a large smile. “Can I have some more too, Mrs. Grayson?” Dick muttered a small thank-you to his mother as she unconsciously gave him a pat over his thick raven hair., turning to his teammate and beaming at him. 

Blue eyes looked over the table. 

John Grayson was politely making conversation with his excitable friends, and maybe even girlfriend — Kori and Victor, while his quieter friend slowly at her meal while a floating black book hovered in the air beside her head. 

Everyone was getting along, cramped side-by-side in this small table, the crackling of the fireplace right behind him while the heat radiated across his back. 

Everyone he loved was in this room. Robin felt his heart pulse with an expression so strong that he nearly crouched over in surprise and shock. 

Mary nodded alongside whatever Starfire was saying, her voice sounding steadily more and more as if she was drowned out by water. 

He strained his ears, squinting his eyes and wondering why that warmth was suddenly ten times stronger, why those images were suddenly so blurry. 

Everyone was here, except — 

“Sorry, we’re late,” a polite, elderly voice said. Alfred held the door open for a looming, broad man. “Master Wayne was so nervous that he couldn’t pick out a proper tie to go for this occasion!” he laughed good-naturedly. 

“Lying is a sin, Alfred,” a deep voice said without an ounce of humor in his tone. Bright blue eyes widened as he was met with the sight of Bruce Wayne walking through the door, fixing his cuffs. “I didn’t miss anything,” he stated, taking his seat across from Robin’s. His black eyes surveyed the scene. 

A loud clatter caused everyone to turn their head toward the smashing sound of wood against wood. Robin stood up so fast that his chair was knocked backward. 

“Bruce — “ Both hands were planted on the table. His words were lodged in his throat — stuck, he halted his movements. 

His body was stuck. 

He didn't know what to say or do. 

It had been years since they had seen each other, years since he had taken his injury and Bruce’s words and thrown them back at the man’s face, running off with the same supplies that Batman had given him — and threatened to take away just as fast. 

Everyone was looking at him now, peering beyond listless eyes. 

Blue eyes flashed back and forth. The oppressive feeling of animosity suddenly filled the room, flooding out the warm feelings that had been there previously. 

“I — “ he managed to choke out. 

What was going on? 

“Wach auf,” Alfred supplied. 

_What?_

“Raus aus den Federn, Prinzessin,” Bruce suddenly said. 

It struck him like a lightning strike. Why were they speaking to him in German? Robin took an unsteady step back, watching the people before him like a tiger in a cage. He knew that Alfred and Bruce both spoke the language, but they never addressed him with it before, not like this. 

“Huh?” Dick whispering to himself, nearly faltering back. Bruce never joked around too, and would never say those cutesy words that came out of his lips — to bother with things like filler words or subtleties. His eyes snapped back and forth to his family, his friends for help at the strange words spewing from Bruce’s lips. 

Except none of them looked at him, they only looked ahead, eyes as blank as paintings, mere reflections in the mirror. 

Raven flipped her short hair over her shoulder and placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward until she propped her face on her hands. 

“Was ist los mit dir?” she asked, almost impatiently, irritation shining in her purple eyes. 

“What — “ The Titans looked at everyone else but him. 

“Wie gesagt…” Cyborg listed off.

* * *

“ _WACH AUF!”_ a voice screamed in his head. 

Dick dug his head deeper into his pillow, smushing his face as he laid face-down. “Hm — Five more minutes,” he mumbled back in English. His muffled voice only created pure gibberish back at the instructor, blocked almost completely by the thin pillow he was burrowing his face in. 

Worried whispers carried through the room, but right now he was only occupied with how warm the sunlight was on him, streaming from the window into his cot from the east-facing window. 

For a second, Dick thought that his wish was going to be granted from the pure silence that responded back to him, and instead, he hummed in content under his breath, dark eyelids falling further closed before he hoped that Hypnos could sweet him off his feet once more. Maybe this time if he was lucky, he could have a candy-sweet dream where someone like Starfire greeted him back — 

_Splash!_

“Gah!” Robin shot up in his bed. Drenched from head-to-toe in his covers and in sheets, he blinked blearily at his surroundings. A splintered bunk-bed, threadbare sheets, dusty windows. He was at the Southern Training Camp base instead of the Titan Tower or anywhere in Gotham. 

A small voice that didn’t sound anything like his teammates whiningly whispered, “Aw, man, I sleep in the bunk above his.” A small puddle grew underneath John’s feet. 

He exhaled before screwing his eyes shut, then blinking them open to face Keith Shadis. 

In the background, his barrack-mates stood at the door frame with mixed images of worry and amusement. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is, Wayne?” the man asked, eerily calm as he leaned in uncomfortably close. 

This was the man’s tactic, Robin knew. Fear was how the man commanded control and authority over the Military Training Corps, and Robin knew that if he gave in — Shadis would only give him a harder time. He blearily blinked the grogginess away and leaned in closer to the Instructor. 

Blue eyes flashed toward the analog clock in the corner of the room. 

“It’s eight,” he replied steadily back in German. The instructor’s lips pressed together. Cadets had to wake up at four in the morning on the dot, and roll call was at four-thirty. He had already missed breakfast and morning chores. 

They were right in the middle of their break period — no wonder Keith Shadis himself came to greet him; and on one of the most important days of the year too. Examination day. The titan-killing practice. It was currently the beginning of spring, and with it came a new round of examinations where the cadets tested their skills and were rated for their abilities. Robin sighed mentally at the thought. 

They held each others’ gazes for a while to the whimpering of the other trainees. 

Shadis dropped the washbasin he used to dunk Robin to the floor with a hollow clank sound. 

Robin knew that the man wouldn’t dare to do anything drastic. He released his stare with a content huff. 

“Clean this up,” Shadis began to walk away. “When I get back here in half an hour, I better see you suited up and in the forest with your peers. After that, you're going to be in the fields running until the evening. If I see you take even a five-second break, you’re packing your bags back to Trost. I’m sick of your behavior, Wayne.” 

Armin and Connie yelped as the man shouldered himself past the makeshift wall that created the peanut gallery. 

Sighing deeply, Robin fell back into his pillows with a loud _thump!_ cringing at the feeling of the wet fabric squish and squelch underneath his head. 

“AND DON’T YOU DARE GO BACK TO SLEEP, WAYNE!”

* * *

The trees in this place were impossibly tall, he thought, holding in a yawn as he stretched his legs. Even thicker and taller than the redwood trees back in California, they were even harder, with branches always strong enough to hold them up. Thick brown boots hugged every inch of his calves and the metal in the soles weighed down his legs. Only peeks of sunlight spilled through the gaps in the leaves, lighting them up with yellow spots of warmth on their skin against the chill of the shade. All around him, nervous mutters resounded, and the entire crowd of them were a mass of emerald green from their silky capes. 

It had been several hours, and his patience was also petered out. With a last name starting with "W" the only people left were a solid dozen of them, all scattered on the ground as the others watched, sitting in the trees above, gossiping about their scores and peering at those who haven't gone yet. He'd done this several times before, all landing in the top five, if not first place. They had evaluations once every season, and twice a season if the weather called for it now that they were in their last year of training, and it was the event that shifted their rankings dramatically. Titan obstacle course today, combat training tomorrow — if he even bothered to show up. 

Standing up straight, he turned back to the remaining people and searced for a suspicious look. It was normal to feel the pressure, the anxiety being those at the ladder end of the wait, and see who had set the bar and who had excelled. Yet — 

There was something off this time. 

He could feel it in the back of his neck, anticipating it whispering in his ear. Eyes followed him wherever he went, and no matter how many times he scanned his comrades in the trees above, none of them met the image that he was looking for. Someone was looking at him, he thought, trying to scan the leaves, and yet nothing. None of the higher-ups, although irritated with him he was sure, was shooting him a nasty glare. He had done many things to step on their toes throughout the years, but they all held onto him for this long, and after he had proved himself time and time again, there was no point to let go. 

Brown buckles and belts decorated his entire body from head to collar, balancing the weight of the 3DMG tied around his waist. It would've restricted his movement if it weren't for the years he had a bulky utility belt around his own super suit, and as ideal as it _wasn't_ Dick was just forced to get used to it. If that was how they got around, killing giant naked humanoids, then who was he to fix what wasn't broken. If there was nothing else for him to do, he just had to adapt — as he always did, as he's had done. 

"Wagner, you're dismissed." The nervous light-haired boy quickly nodded and saluted at the end of the obstacle course before releasing his wires and jumping up toward a high branch next to his friends. "Wayne!" a voice barked. "You're up!" 

Tapping his clad toe against the dirt to readjust the fit and test the restraint of his belts, he paused in his stretches momentarily the second that two whispered fits of laughter rang in his ears. Back turned toward them, too far away to hear what they were saying, he could still tell that their amused gaze was for him. 

Despite his efforts to balance staying average in the ranks and showing his prowess on the field, his attitude toward the superiors and his peers made him a less-than-desirable person on the base. It was normal for people waiting for him to slip up, waiting for a broad-shouldered man like Reiner to tackle him down when they were paired together, but he always slipped free to remain victorious. At this point, after all the strenuous training that Batman put him through, it would be laughable if he wasn't. It normally didn't bother him — until now. Their laughs were louder than usual, their insults and sneers somehow colder than average on this dewy spring day. 

Dick released the wires, crashing the hooks into the bark above the starting branch to stand beside Shadis and another solider with light blond hair, glasses, and a clipboard. 

"John Wayne, present," he muttered, stretching his arms to warm his muscles up. Using 3DMG was like swimming through water for someone who worked with grappling hooks and wires the majority of their career, easily getting used to the feeling of the gas on his back and the strain of his core to twist him into the direction that he needed to go, except now that pressure was placed on his torso and leg muscles instead of his arms. He was rarely surpassed by anyone, and it showed. Only Mikasa Ackerman, he recalled briefly, was able to beat him, but that was like flipping a coin. 

Up above, against his knowledge, a majority of his barrack mates stared down at him. 

"Salute," another soldier hissed at him from down below, fixing the reins on their Titan dummies, already tired of his insolence. 

He breathed out his nose and gave Shadis a perfect salute, arm behind his back, fist on his heart. 

"At ease," the man grumbled with irritation. Robin relaxed his body. "Your physical report," he demanded. The blonde soldier posed her pencil on the paper. 

"Sixteen years old, 169 centimeters, 58.5 kilograms, roughly nine percent muscle mass," he listed off, unfocused. Silence permitted the air before he slid his blue irises toward the commander. "...Sir." 

There was a pause before the blonde nodded, noting that she managed to mark everything down and that his physical scores were adequate. 

"You are given five minutes to hit every target that you see," Shadis declared, nodding to the soldier with the watch on his wrist. "Start — now." 

He was already off before the second hand ticked to the next. 

. . . 

The zipping sound of wires filled the air, the swords were warming up in the grasp of his palms, the wind through his hair were the only things he felt as he flipped through the forest, releasing and shooting wires off at different trees, angling his body and manipulating the trajectory of his falls before he twisted his body — careening himself off his typical course. 

There were very few things that made him feel truly free, he thought. And true to his name, true to his mother's nickname for him before it became his alias, he always loved being airborne. For a minute, he assumed that his parents did as well, considering their occupation, how many times they practiced and twisted and flipped just like he was doing now. Maybe it was in his blood — to move in for the swing, to reach out, wait for the flip. 

Except — He ran his swords through a fake foam neck. Here, there was no one else he needed but him. 

With a flick of his wrist, another Titan went down, nearly cracking through the head of the dummy, to the sound of an annoyed, "Watch it, will you?!" from the soldiers arranging the obstacle course down befow. They must've been given orders to be as spontaneous as possible, he thought. Normally Shadis barked orders at them to move the dummies, changing their direction and angle under his call, but the man stayed silent the entire time, and the Titans shifted around him like he was a ball in a game of pinball, hoping to swat him down with the turn of a hard wooden board. Gas released behind him, pushing him forward. 

Three more enemies. 

One on the right. 

Two on the left. 

Ocean-blue flickered momentarily in the brief sunlight that managed to slip through the cracks of the leaves. Tightening his grasp on his blades, he was about to switch out, the blades were becoming dull. He swung like a pendulum in the air, body flipping upside down, raven hair being pulled back, arms posed above his head. 

His swords went through the foam with a flash and then — a _snap_. 

Eyes wide, body suddenly slack, Robin's body was sent veering violently under the pressure of a broken wire, dislodging unnecessary air from his gas tanks — allowing his body to crash right into a tree. He hit the bark with so much impact that the leaves rustled and fell. Hisses and pitiful "Ooh"s resounded through the forest, other cadets wincing in sympathy from his fall. He tumbled onto a sturdy branch down below, the thin wood meeting his stomach with a gasp in before he righted himself. 

The pain coursed through him like water crashing on the shore. 

As his muscles briefly shook as he pulled himself up, he barely noticed one of the lieutenants landed on his branch, waiting as the wires zipped back into their place. "Are you all right?" he asked, light brown hair tilting as he came closer to check for a concussion or any sprained or broken bones. 

Dick wavered slightly before standing up again. "Fine," he gritted out. His brain felt like a salt shaker, his skeleton was practically rattling inside his own body. 

Hand coming down to check on the wire, he would've assumed that it was a simple snap if it weren't for how the wire was cut with the outer braided cord bent inward and the clean split from the wires. Dark brows knit in irritation. So that's what those two boys were laughing about, and one turn back to the starting point confirmed his suspicion. The two were bent over, laughing more than usual, but immediately fell silent the moment their gaze met with his deadly blue ones. If looks could kill, they'd already be bleeding out from under him. He barely remembered their faces, let alone their names, but he did remember that shade of brown being face-down into the dirt during combat training last week. 

_So this is revenge?_ From someone he didn't even know existed? 

"Looks like someone tampered with it," the lieutenant suddenly confirmed, Dick's broken wire in his hands. "We'll deal with those later. Twelve out of fourteen in a five-minute span isn't bad, it's great even," the man attempted to comfort, smiling at him. Muller, Robin remembered his name was. "Take my hand," he said easily. "I'll take you down and to the hospital wing." 

"Time..." Robin spat out as he pulled his leg over the branch. He shook the leaves out of his hair like a wet dog. 

The hand faltered. "H-Huh?" 

"How much time is left on my clock, Lieutenant Muller," Robin repeated, righting himself up against the branch, one hand holding him straight. Almost as if asking for confirmation, he turned his shocked gaze down at the boy who only shone with stubborn annoyance. 

The man's brown eyes went wide. "Oh — Uh..." He wrapped his hands around his mouth and turned to the starting point. "Time?!" he shouted through the forest. 

"Three minutes, fifty-six seconds!" the soldier shouted back, a voice so loud that it scattered the birds in the trees. 

"Damn..." Lieutenant Muller's eyes slid over to Dick. "That would've been a record. Barely anyone gets all fourteen Titans in the five-minute span — Wait, what are you doing?!" Robin began unbuckling his extra blades, stripping them from the gas canisters. 

"I'll finish the course," Robin answered, nearly monotonous. 

"W-What?!" The man's eyes bugged out of his skull. "Your wire is snapped!" As if for proof, he held it up. 

"I can make do with just one." He switched out his blades and forcefully handed over the pack to Muller. 

"A-Are you insane?" the man said, hugging the silver boxes to his chest. "You already did well! You're rank thirty-six, right now, right? Listen, I heard that you're a bit of a delinquent, but if you right yourself up, with this score you might make the top twenty — " 

Mutters started to grow louder as they stared at Robin hooking up the single wire for the shot. 

"What is he doing down there?" Marco muttered, trying to lean down as far as possible without falling off his branch. 

"Beats me," Berthold shrugged. "Looks like he's arguing with Lieutenant." 

"Tell Petho to resume the timer, Lieutenant," Dick commanded. Blue eyes gleamed like the sea during a stormy day. He held up the end of his 3DMG as if it were a grappling hook, feeling the odd weight and shape in his hand. 

"I — " The man started. Robin closed one eye to make his mark. The last two Titans were right beside each other for an easier home stretch. 

_Zip!_

The wire ran clean across both necks, slamming into the tree beside them. 

His feet left the ground before the lieutenant could even finish his sentence. Everyone watched as he zoomed by and became a mere blur before their eyes. With a slash, the boy sent two pieces of foam flying into the air. Body pulled forward with a single wire, he skidded to a stop with a spin on another large branch, breathing heavily. The dust that scattered settled. Two large foam pieces slammed to the ground with a great _boom_. 

"Time." Robin raised one fist up into the air, almost like he was catching the dust that streamed through the rays of light. Blue eyes glared down at the superiors. 

"F-Four minutes, forty-nine seconds."

The shouts of surprise that rang through the forest were deafening. 

* * *

“He’s still running?” Eren Jaeger asked, watching as his barrack mates steadily jogged across the base. The sun was steadily overhead in the evening sky. 

Jean huffed irritably. “You know him, that bastard. He wouldn't even admit that he's on his deathbed, I bet.” 

“He’s been running since 12:00, it’s almost 17:00 now. He has the kitchen duty with us today, Eren,” Armin helpfully supplied. Multiple pairs of eyes followed John’s sweat-drenched body. Aside from the boy’s loose form and uneven breathing, there were no tells that he was exhausted beyond his life. 

“Woooah,” Thomas said breathlessly, “that’s almost five hours of running. Not to mention how he hit the tree after his 3DMG accident.” 

"Man..." Connie scratched his head. "You think that Shadis would've loosened up a bit." 

"Well, you know that hardass." 

“Tch.” Jean slammed a fist down on the wooden railing. “Whatever, he got a break for lunch!” The blond rolled over until he propped his hips against the rail. “The higher-ups don’t say shit because he’s supposedly had the most kills for the Titan dummies out of all of us — but if you ask me, I think his parents are paying the military off! Rich kids get everything they want!” 

Eren blinked at this new information. “I didn’t know that he’s rich.” From what they knew, John mostly kept to himself despite being in the same barrack for almost a year now. Some soldiers kept pictures of their loved ones or small trinkets that reminded them of home, but John never had any of that. He read or slept in his free time. No one ever visited him on the weekends either, and he didn’t receive any mail from relatives. 

When Shadis had asked him what his reason for joining the military was, the boy had only looked the man in the eye and said: “To find out what’s past the walls.” Even upon pressuring to say things along the lines of, "Dedicating myself to the military" or being forced to give his all to the cause, the boy had only boredly relented in exchange for the commander to leave him alone. 

But upon Jean’s words, more things made sense. Like how John didn’t appear as starved as they did, nor show the signs of malnutrition, how he had clear and clean skin and clothes. He had an aristocratic face that he assumed all the nobles in Sina had, the carefully carved cheeks and jaw. There had been multiple times girls showed up at their door, wanting to talk to him or to simply slide a love letter underneath the wood. All the other boys steamed with jealousy, even going as far as to ask why when John tossed them in the bin as if it was worth nothing. The others were sure to give him a tongue-lashing every time that happened, but he simply shrugged and said, "I don't reciprocate her feelings," forcing their anger to simmer on a back burner. 

The only thing that kept him from the other glory-chasers was the determined look in his eyes and the thick calluses in his hands. Eren didn't want to admit it, but the boy did have a talent for the military. His body barely swayed when they first hooked him up to the 3DMG machine and he always managed to beat even Annie and Reiner in combat. 

Eren had half a mind to ask the boy to train him, to pester him as he had with Annie, but whenever he approached the boy, it was as if he was in his own little world and they were just spectators. 

“Just look at how pale he is! I bet he never had to work a day in his life!” Jean pushed. “And his name and that weird accent of his — it all just screams privilege.” 

Connie tilted his head. “Wait, isn’t he from Trost like you guys?” Connie pointed at Jean and Thomas. “Did you know him?” 

“Trost is one of the densest districts on all three walls,” Thomas huffed good-naturedly, “I didn’t even know Jean before coming here.” He pointed his thumb at the blond boy. 

“If I saw a face like his in Trost I would’ve pummeled it,” Jean snapped irritably, chest-puffing like a peacock. 

“As if!” Eren goaded. “He would’ve wiped the floor with you! Don’t you remember how he made you eat dirt during hand-to-hand combat training, Horse-face?” 

Hands grabbed at Eren’s shirt. “I fucking told you, Jaeger! I was feeling sick that day!” 

“Hey, hey!” Immediately the other boys swarmed around them. “Calm down!” 

“Let him go, Jean,” Thomas placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder. 

Armin’s blue eyes peered at the boy’s figure who steadily started to slow down now that he had to return to his chores. “He fights really well in general. I heard some of the lieutenants say that if he wasn’t being disciplined all the time, he would be top of the class.” Screwing his eyebrows together, he began to think. “I wonder where he got those fighting skills and accent from… I’ve never heard of it before.” 

“What?” Eren blinked. “Stronger than Mikasa?! Him?!” He pointed at the boy who began to walk toward them. “But he sleeps most of the time! How is he supposed to fight Titans like — like that?!” 

“What’s wrong, Jaeger,” Jean mocked. “Jealous that a guy that’s sleepwalking is a better fighter than you?” 

“Eat ass, Horse-face!” 

“I’m not the one that got my ass handed to me every training session!” 

"He was pretty cool this morning, you gotta admit," Thomas said, propping his face on his hands. "He got scolded for disobeying Lieutenant Muller, but who could forget that trick he pulled today? I didn't even know it was possible to do that with the 3DMG." 

"Did they catch whoever tampered with his wire?" Armin asked. 

"Yeah, I heard it was Martin — you know from the barrack next to us." Thomas laughed. "If they thought that he could move with just one wire, I bet they would've cut that one too!" 

Eren pouted. "What the hell..." he muttered, "He barely shows up to training... How'd he get that..." He didn't want to say strong, talented, or capable. He didn't want to use any word that seemed like praise for the other man. 

“You know… that’s probably why they don’t let him past the top ten,” Connie chuckled. “He’s talented but he’s not motivated enough. I think he irritates the superiors too, but it's getting harder to get recruits as good as him, so I think they're forced to keep him around.” 

“Tch.” Jean threw Eren away from him. “Sucks to lose his chance to join the Military Police just because he is as lazy as shit, huh?” Jean grinned. “Oh well, more deserving people will take that spot if he won’t.” 

“He wanted to join the Survey Corps,” Thomas supplied to the surprise of his roommates. “I asked him when we first were assigned here and he said that he just wanted clearance to go into the Survey Corps. That’s probably why he’s giving the bare minimum.” 

Eren’s eyes were blown wide. “He — “ Bright green flashed wildly. “What?!” The idea that he was slacking just because the Survey Corps permitted entry incensed him like a fire. 

“Eren, please — “ Armin gently said, already knowing what was going to happen. 

“Just because he can fight and use 3DMG well, he thinks that he can just waltz on into the Survey Corps?! By barely doing shit?!” Eren yelled. “Does he think this is a joke?!” 

“Eren!” Armin tried to say. 

“Sounds like suicide,” Jean drawled boredly. 

Their conversations came to a halt as John walked over to their barrack, easily lifting his legs over the railing and leaping into the room without a word of greeting to any of them. 

Turning their eyes over to each other, they could hear the exhausted breaths that left the male’s mouth and smell the drip of sweat from here, but they all knew from the look in his eye and the straightness of his posture that he could still go a couple of hours more. 

And that’s what made him fit for Top of the Class.

* * *

Robin woke up in the middle of a field. 

That much wasn’t strange — he had woken up in dozens of strange places before — somewhere he was aware of his surroundings, and others where he was unsure of his location. 

This time, he was in an open field. The grass was untrimmed, wild, and free with weeds and wildflowers. 

And when he opened his eyes, there was a large wall over his head. 

That was one year ago, and he was nearly sixteen years old now. 

He didn’t know where he was, but he found that he was in a place completely closed off by walls: Wall Maria, Wall Rose, and Wall Sina. He had woken up in Wall Rose himself, in a large town called the Trost District, and he was all alone. 

He immediately knew that something was off from the near medieval technology if it weren’t for the 3DMG, the date, and the unfamiliarity of the space around him. 

Immediately his head got to work, trying to wrap around or make heads or tales of the situation he was in, to add reasoning to his life. He knew that the Gregorian calendar wasn’t adopted until the 1500s, and to assume that he was from the 800s just from that was just wrong and incorrect, so he was in a timeless place and unfamiliar dimension without any technology, any money, and any friends. 

He truly was alone. 

Instead of feeling down on himself, Robin decided that moping wouldn’t get him anywhere, and pulled himself on his bootstraps and got to work. He was lucky that German was one of the languages Bruce Wayne forced him to study when he was still under the man’s wing, and even though he still had a slight accent that was fading away more and more time he spent with the native speakers around him, he didn’t have to worry about communication or gathering information. The books were written in a letting system that he wasn’t familiar with, but he was able to codebreak it in several months, transliterating it into his own alphabet. 

He was in another universe, he assumed, something that sounded right out of one of Raven’s books, but he didn’t have any other answer for the walls, the isolated people, and the monsters called Titans beyond the walls. 

He felt like it was cosmic justice, he thought, being a Titan and then being terrorized by giant humanoid creatures under the same namesake, forcing him to get so sick of his own name that he twisted what he had originally felt pride in into some kind of sorrow. 

Robin could just wait, he thought. His teammates were loyal to a fault, and once they discovered that their leader was missing, they would come and swoop him up and out of this place without a second’s thought. 

Yet, he didn’t know how long that would take and he hated being a sitting duck and attempted to forge his own way out of here. He needed to learn, plan, and plot. 

A majority of the history books all said the same thing, rounding all of the past hundred years of history to that one moment where the walls were erected and built to protect the citizens inside, but he felt like something was off — something was missing. 

What happened during the period where the walls were being built? The Great Wall of China was said to take from either twenty to 2,000 years to build and that was without the presence of cannibalistic monsters, so how did these people build up to three gigantic walls so quickly. 

Furthermore, there was no information about what happened before the walls. It was like the christening of Christ or something, he thought, there was no before and only after. No history of land feud, colonization, or disease struggles. 

And most of all, all of the history books he read were less than a hundred years old. Unless the land had a period of book-burning or had large censorship laws, then he should hope to find books or text that were more than 100 years old. 

The more he dug, the more he found holes in the plot of this universe’s machinations, and yet he didn’t have anyone to share his plans with, anyone to bounce ideas off lest he is known as the town’s psycho or worse, if there were censorship laws, he would be taken away and killed before he found a way back home. 

The only answer he had left was beyond the walls, and there was only one way to do that easily: join the military. 

The Survey Corps were the only people who regular access beyond the walls. Members died at an exponential rate and Titans descended upon large groups of people, causing only a 12% success rate when they had expeditions outside the walls. It wouldn’t take much for him, a newly graduated, low-ranking soldier to slip away from formation and attempt to dig a little when chaos broke out. He kept skills polished but his rank low as he slacked off on things like morning chores, roll-call, and room inspections. The lower he slipped under the radar, the better. 

He knew that recruitment for the military had become a dying practice: after more than a hundred years of going through the same amount of bloodshed and loss, the military was trying to take all of the help they could get, and it worked in his favor that he was the strongest member in the Training Corps so far. He made sure to always show off when he did attend training, easily barreling past people who were much larger than he was during combat training, displaying fancy holds and tricks when using the 3DMG, and always getting an impressive 10/10 for field training. They would be crazy to kick him out now, not when he’s becoming so valuable. 

He was here to stay. 

So until he had a plan, until they came to his rescue, he just had to hold down the fort for as long as possible.

* * *

Potatoes, he thought. High in carbohydrates, did not need an extremely large amount of land, easy to grow in many weather conditions, and unlike things such as wheat, it did not need to be milled, therefore millers couldn’t control the production and distribution of potatoes — and as of right now, 50% of his diet. 

Robin inwardly groaned as he peeled the pile of potatoes in front of him, creating long strands with his paring knife. He was glad to have a steady stream of food always accessible to him — it was unlike the time he first arrived in this world and he had to pickpocket to survive, but he was tired of the same stale bread, bland soup, and steamed potato that they had to eat every day. 

_He missed pizza_. 

Sorry for being a spoiled rich kid, he thought as he tossed a freshly-peeled potato into the metal bowl, but he wanted something that didn’t taste like the weird bowl of snot from _The Matrix_. He didn't mind kitchen duty as much as the other chores, but they were monotonous. He minded his own business regardless. 

“Wayne,” a voice suddenly said. 

_Hm?_ Robin tilted his head up, seeing the boy that he was sharing the shift with. Rarely anyone had the urge to come and speak to him.

It was Eren Jaeger while the blond boy who was trying to hold him back was Armin, from what he remembered. He shared the barrack with those two, but they shared a bunk while he shared one with Connie; that much he knew. He barely talked to him. 

The boy was lithe, about his height, with a skin that had developed a nice tan from constant training. His hair was neatly trimmed in a boyish way, leaving a part to expose big, bright green eyes that looked like a lake’s untouched surface. He and the blond were frequently followed by Mikasa, the strongest soldier in the training camp so far. 

He was known for being the maniac that constantly shouted that he was going to eradicate all Titans, and Dick remembered at the beginning of their enlistment that he didn’t hold back when confronting others who might’ve stamped on his untouched dreams of glory. 

Was it his turn, he thought, deadpan. 

“Jaeger, right?” he muttered, turning his eyes back down to the vegetable he was working on. 

“I heard that you wanted to enlist in the Survey Corps,” Eren slammed both hands on the table, rattling his pile of potatoes until one rolled off the edge. Armin quickly ducked and bent down to pick it up. “Is that true?!” 

“I don’t see how that has to do with you,” Robin said honestly. He wasn’t trying to be mean or snappy, but he had just run several miles today and he wasn’t in the mood to fight while his legs felt like they were going to fall off as they pulsed every few seconds. Seeing that the boy was just going to get angrier from his response, Robin conceded, “But yes, I want to join the Survey Corps.” 

“Is it a joke to you?” Eren seethed. 

Robin blinked once. Twice. Carefully, he placed down the paring knife and crossed his arms, leaning back. “Explain,” he commanded. 

It was the boy’s turn to be startled, eyes growing wide at the power that he was commanding then, his relaxed posture. Dark brows screwed together. “What the hell are you — “ 

“No, I’m trying to hear you out,” Robin stated. “So explain.”

He was still every inch of a leader he was back then — even without his crew. 

“You say that you want to join the Survey Corps, but all I ever see you do is go to the bare minimum of training sessions, and then you fuck off to who knows where! Don’t lie to me! I know that you skip out on curfew too! Are you in cahoots with some officer to let you stay here?! Do you think the military is just some game that you can play?!” Deep green eyes stared into his blue ones. “Don’t be a bitch. Out on the field do you think that you can give your very least and everything will be okay?” 

“...Are you being serious?” Robin finally spoke. One look at Armin in the background let him know that Eren was being completely serious. Scoffing softly, he let his free hand brush away dark locks that fell over his face. “Whether I’m good or bad at my job, I’m going to be in the Survey Corps as long as I graduate. Those are the rules, so that’s how I’ll play them. It’s not like I’m cheating my way into the Military Police.” After a second of thinking, he added, “Why are you being so sensitive about this?” He wondered why the boy in front of him was being so passionate about the lowest rank in the military. Did he have some family members in there, perhaps? 

While it was true that maybe to some he was skeeving off as they worked to eradicate Titans, that wasn't his objective. He was simply here to try and explore as much of the world as he could in order to find a way out. He was going to kill some Titans along the way, and that would work to benefit both of them. 

“Do you have any idea how many people you’re insulting right now with that type of shit?! All of the men and women who lost their lives?! ‘Give your heart!’” Eren emphasized. “I give my all and you just go through here without a care in the world, and yet somehow you’re still stronger! Is your head too small to understand that?” 

“What do you want,” Robin attempted to reason. Batman said that in places that didn’t require fights to be as diplomatic as possible, and he can see now that the ticking time bomb in front of him was just laying down his emotions on his sleeve. “It’s not your place. I’m sorry that your abilities are lacking — “ Eren made an unattractive sound at the back of his throat — “But I can’t control that. Whatever happens, I’m going to be working in the Survey Corps and they’re going to be benefiting from my labor, isn’t that what matters in the end?” 

Back then he saw both Eren and Jean get in a fight about the ethics and morals of joining the Military Police, Robin thought that they were both clowns, both clawing at the other for getting uptight about the same situation, but he saw here now that it was just Eren who knew how to rile people up like this. 

“Eren, I think he’s right,” Armin meekly said. “We shouldn’t get in his business.” 

“Are you just pulling this type of shit with everything then...? When you see your loved ones suffer in front of you, are you just going to let them die?! Are you just going to do _nothing_? Sleep through it while they scream and beg?!” 

The bench that Robin was sitting on clattered to the floor. 

“I-I think you went too far!” Armin stated. 

“...Are you asking for a fight?” Robin calmly peered into Eren’s fuming gaze. “Is that your objective?” 

One hand shot out to enclose Robin’s shirt in his fist. Blue eyes flashed open. He knew this — Eren was going to go for a flip. One hand on his arm, the other against his throat, one leg poised for the kick — 

“Please, calm down!” 

“Sorry, Armin!” The two brunets shoved the blond off, listening with half an ear as he yelped. 

Robin quickly flicked his arm off, twisting it until Eren was forced to release under the pressure. A sharp hiss of pain raced from one ear out the other. Eren’s leg hit his dominant one, leaving only bruising, but his calf and ankle stayed firm under the pressure of the strike. 

Both arms raised to protect his temple and his face, legs shoulder-width apart, he hopped backward to create space. The brunet could only blink as the Teen Titan stopped and spun, the opposite leg lifting up to kick the side of Eren’s head, it made contact immediately. Eren slammed down onto the wooden table, rattling it like a kid’s toy. 

Robin stood over them, chest rising and falling, both from the fight and from the strain of running for hours previously. 

“Hey!” The chef peeked his head in from the kitchen window, bald head shining in the overhead lanterns. “What the hell is going on here?!” In the background, the ominous soup bubbled away in a pot. 

“Nothing, sir,” he answered, gathering his things. He was lucky that the window didn’t allow him to see both Armin and Eren on the floor. Moving quickly, he placed the bowl on the windowsill. “I finished with my share, may I be excused?” 

He hoped that the chef didn’t hear the groans in the background and smiled humorlessly.

* * *

It was nearing curfew and for skipping out on chores this morning, Shadis had dumped the dining hall cleaning completely on him for the night and he had just finished several grueling hours of dish-washing duty. It was no use going to the showers this late, he thought, they either ran out or were completely ice cold. It was better to wait until three in the morning when they refilled and he could hop in before anyone else had a chance to steal the hot water. 

Mop moving back and forth like the ticking of a clock’s arm, he was mindlessly thinking up tasks to do until then. He didn’t want to go back to his barrack where he knew that both Armin and Eren were sleeping, and maybe he didn’t need to sleep with one eye open due to worry that they were going to shank him in his sleep, he didn’t want to crack open that can of worms by seeing them so soon. 

It wasn’t as he had actually gotten sleep during those hours. Instead, the library was completely open to all soldiers and he normally brought a book or two to burn through throughout the night. If any of the superiors saw him skimping on curfew for that though, he was going to be subjected to worse than mopping the entire dining hall in one night. 

But whatever, he would just be careful, more cautious than he had been previously. He could sit on the floor and read with his oil lamp instead of one of the desks where the window might catch the light. Anything was better than going back to a room with two hostile roommates. 

Sighing to himself, he just needed to get the kitchens mopped and scrubbed and they would be done. Arms moving on autopilot at this point, he didn’t even notice that he had knocked his mop into an object until he felt it and saw it slide underneath the workstation. 

Robin held in whatever irritation he felt as he got on his hands and knees, lowering himself until he could see the item that he knocked over. Underneath the darkness of the workstation, he could tell that it was some kind of book, and he reached into a forest of cobwebs and dead bug exoskeletons to fish it out. At that moment, he wished that he had Raven’s powers to go and get it hands-free. 

That one image of her face sent a deep dive of sorrow through his body. 

The book was in his hands by now but his mind was somewhere else. 

He wondered if his teammates were okay. 

And he wondered if Eren was right — that as he was slacking off here, that they would be in danger somewhere he couldn’t reach them. 

His shoulders rose and fell with every breath. There was no use pondering over that, he assumed. Especially since he didn’t have any special powers that could take him out of here. There was just so much that he could do, and he was achieving those baby steps, right…? 

Maybe if he were someone like Clark Kent, he would’ve gotten through this situation a lot faster than Dick Grayson had. 

Desperate for a distraction, his eyes fell down toward the book, and he blinked at the words. 

This was a notebook about the ocean…? 

Immediately, his eyes and focus descended on the book like a thirsting man in the desert. Not a single book that he had encountered in this place before and any mention of an _ocean,_ yet here it was, right before his eyes. There were crude sketches and assumptions of what sea creatures and shells looked like. Even more amazing, there were notes in the corner that wrote off thoughts such as: _The sun beats on the ocean all day, the water is warm? There are no creatures near the deepest part of the ocean because there’s no sunlight. 50m deep, 100m?_ _Can you grow plants underwater? Are there parts of the ocean where there's freshwater?_

 _These are all just guesses,_ he summarized, but Robin admitted that the person doing so was trying their best with the minimal information they had — whatever amount they had. 

_Who managed to discover the oceans, anyway?_ He thought. When he first arrived, the people that he spoke to couldn’t fathom a body of water larger than a lake, and a majority of people here got theirs from underground, rain, and small reservoirs that the rich maintained. Flipping the book to the front cover, he opened up the simple leather piece and looked at the name scrawled at the bottom of the page. 

_Armin Arlert_. 

Exhaling, he sat down at the workbench and pulled a pen and a spare piece of paper from the cabinet. 

There was a lot he needed to work on, after all.

* * *

“Armin, are you sure we can’t just get it in the morning?” Eren attempted to whisper, but everyone who knew him knew that he was physically unable to. 

“You know that Peter and Ulrich have the morning shift in the kitchens!” Armin desperately said, holding the lantern closer to him. “They would probably just kick and trample over it!” 

“You’re right, but — “ Eren closed his eyes and nodded. Footsteps descended on them. It came from the end of the corridor, growing steadily closer and closer until they were able to see the bottom of the uniform. The two tensed, ready to make a dash that would lead to an immediate discipline or to just take their punishment like men. They couldn’t just drop the lantern now over fears that it would shatter or break — and the light would only lead their superior right to them. 

Clenching their eyes shut, the two hung their heads as they looked down at the pristine brown boot that stood in front of them. 

“Armin,” the voice said and Eren snapped his head up like the hounds were after him. 

“You — !” Eren nearly said if it weren’t for Armin grasping his shirt collar to hold him back. 

“You dropped this,” John said, ignoring Eren completely, holding his notebook out to him. 

“Ah!” Armin immediately snatched it back in his hands, hugging it to his chest. “Y-You found it! Thank you! Where was it?” 

“It was in the kitchens where I was cleaning. You dropped it when we were fighting.” John tilted his head, letting a stray lock of hair fall down over his face. “Sorry.” The light of the lantern shone back on the smooth planes of his face. Nodding once to either boy, he inclined his head and walked past them. 

“Good night.” 

Eren and Armin were as still as a stone until his footsteps ceased and his body disappeared into the night. 

“Talk about creepy,” Eren muttered irritably. “He could’ve just said it was him to begin with.” Looking over at his friend, he blinked in surprise at the boy staring in shock at his own papers. “Huh? Armin, what’s wrong?! Did he scribble over your notes or something?” Fury filled his eyes, head snapping back to where John had left. “I don’t care if he tries to fight back — I’m going to kick his ass!” 

“Eren, no…!” Armin’s eyes flashed back and forth from his friend to his page. He didn’t know what else to do but gesture helplessly. “He — He answered all of my questions about the ocean!” 

“...Huh?!” 

_The ocean is completely salty. Seawater is not warm, it’s mostly cold, but the warmer water rises to the surface while the colder water sinks._

_There are creatures that live even where the sun doesn’t reach. They produce their own light in their bodies. Also, they’re different from other aquatic animals. Normally other animals wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure but these can._

_The ocean is 3,000m deep on average. The deepest part is 11,000m._

_You can’t grow normal plants underwater, but there are aquatic plants._

_Your book says water is blue because it absorbs the red in the light spectrum._

_The biggest animal in the ocean is 30m. It’s called a blue whale._

_If you have any more questions, you can ask me if you want. I’m not a marine biologist, but I’ll try my best to answer them_. 

_— Wayne_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This was just a fic I wrote to cool down after some stressful assignments at school. I also took like four years of German...so I hope I didn't write anything incorrectly or else I'd be really embarrassed...  
> After this, Mikasa learns that Eren and Armin fought him the night before, leaving him on her hitlist, but Armin wants to know more about the ocean and slowly starts talking to him more. Robin wants a way out, and he thinks that these three, the only ones who know at least a little about the outside world, might help him.  
> Also: Hot take but Levi is just another Bat-fam member waiting to happen. He can join the rest of the Robins with their black hair, bad biological family, and tragic backstory.


	2. Songbird I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Levi is the first Robin, can’t remember his past, and can only remember a life filled with war, strife, and cannibalistic monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I saidddd in the previous chapter, Robin!Levi was just waiting to happen. I know that plot-wise Dick makes more sense as the first Robin, since he has a goal and a reason to become a Robin, but I couldn't help myself making this. I think it also makes sense that since Levi doesn't have a specific goal or intention (if we are still going by his past in the anime) that he would retire pretty quickly. Warning for slightly OOC!Dick. I think if he had an older brother figure he would really admire/be soft to him.

_“Hey, can you hear me?” One large reached to shake the shoulder of an emancipated woman. Time ticked by as he inched closer and closer._

_“She’s dead.” A pause. A large hand hovering over her form._

_Skin sunken to the bones, too-large eyes hanging above deep eyebags, matted and ratty black hair._

_He stood over the boy like a ghost, the moonlight from the window illuminating his gigantic form, the planes of his muscles defined by the tightness of his supersuit. He looked like a monster, he thought, against the little boy who was so small that he could fit in his arms._

_“...Do you have a name?”_

_“...Levi…”_

_There was complete silence before the boy continued, “Just Levi.”_

* * *

People said that you saw a bright, white light when you died. 

Levi said that was a load of crap if you asked him — for Titans always descended over them, eclipsing the sun, but here, now, when all he saw was a bright, white light and no feeling in his arms, he felt that maybe he was the fool all along. Voices surrounded him while he attempted to regain feeling in his limbs. Nothing but that glowing halo above greeted him. 

“H-He’s struggling too much!” 

“P-Please calm down, sir!” 

“We have no choice but to restrain him.” 

“Call Bruce, please,” an exasperated voice said. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” 

“D-Doctor?!” the voice became frantic. 

“Put him under.”

When Levi finally managed to open his eyes, clear his pupils from the brightness, take in the clean, aseptic smell and the harried faces of the nurses around him, he attempted to break free of the binds that held him down. A woman rushed forward with a strange see-through shell, placing it quickly over his face. 

“S-Sorry to do this, sir, but please give me several deep breaths!” she anxiously said, snapping a band over his head. 

“H-Hold him steady!” 

“One…” a nurse began to count down. 

He had only hyperventilated harder, the muffled sound of his yells becoming louder. 

“Two…” 

Soft leather binds were pulled taut underneath his grasp. 

His grey eyes began to blink closed. 

“Three.” 

His head fell back to the pillow.

* * *

It was dark outside when Levi woke up again, and before anything else, he noticed the lack of the smell of antiseptic first. 

He was alone. Still in leather binds, he was held down as if like some sort of restrained animal and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, steadily listening to the soft crackling of the fireplace in the large room. 

Immediately, his eyes flashed wide open at the realization. 

_A large room?_

The leather straps immediately snapped under his strength, breaking apart like bandages before he slipped out of the rest of them. He didn’t remember where he was, where Shitty-Glasses was, where Erwin was, nor what day it was. 

He tried to run through his memories to understand whether or not he had a concussion. His name was Levi and he was Captain. His birthday was the 25th of December and it was the year 850. The last thing he remembered was Minister Nick’s murder. He had just gone to bed and prepared for the next storm to come at him. But here — he could be in Wall Sina, he could be back within the Survey Corps, but he was sure there wasn’t any place that looked like _this_ within the trash hole that was the base. 

The room that he was in was the height of any luxury he had ever seen. It was bigger than the entire mess hall at the base, and upon looking down, the entire bed was bigger than several cots pushed together. Who needed this much space, he realized, pushing past the covers that threatened to swallow him in sheer size. When he moved even the slightest, he jumped as it sunk down, letting him feel the most comfort he had ever felt before, so soft that it felt wrong. Unnatural and sickening. The walls were naturally dark, leaving the moonlight with a luminous blue tint against the blackened wood and the overly large windows. He could only see the sky and the tops of trees from there — how high up was he? Even the ceiling was stupidly high, and was that a fucking chandelier hanging above his bed? 

He needed to get out of here — and fast. If he crossed paths with whatever filthy rich noble Sina had that took him in, he was going to shank them simply on the reason being they spent so frivolously. 

Levi turned his head to the strange incessant beeping that had been playing in his ear the entire time. It sounded unlike any clock or anything he had ever heard before, but when he came across a strange box with a glowing window, showing rising and falling lines to the cadence of the beeps, panic only rose in his body. The lines became faster, the beeps rising in volume as if feeling the pressure. He tossed the stupidly large blankets aside and kicked off the bed. 

A single tug on his arm revealed several syringes tied to his arms, connected to a bag of what looked like clear water on a metal rod. Without further thought, he ripped those clean off, but immediately fell back down the second it released a large screeching sound. Immediately, he dropped to the plush rug below, feeling his migraine come back, hitting him like a horse at full-force. The alarm was increasingly loud, and he was too lost in the pain to feel the trembles of the floor underneath his legs and the sound of the double-doors slamming open. 

“Master Levi, are you all right?!” a voice asked beside him while the other pair of feet padded over to the strange box, turning off the screeching. An elderly man with white hair leaned over him, eyes wrinkled with confusion and concern. Levi immediately slapped the man’s hand away from him and leaned backward to create some space. 

He needed a weapon, a knife or anything and only held the syringes between his fingers. 

“Who the hell are you — and where the fuck did you take me?” he asked, chest rising and falling. No, he needed to calm down, he was getting too panicked — but the strange room, the weird box, the weird tubes and wires tied to him — everything was off, nothing was familiar. 

The man paused, leaning back. Then silence. 

Levi’s breaths were slowly returning to normal, and he could see now that his eyes had adjusted to the light that the older man was in sleeping clothes while the younger man was still fully dressed. 

“Do you need to clean your damn ears?” Levi asked, finally bringing his voice back to his normal dull roll. He steadily got back up, watching the both of them for any movement. “I said — “ 

“...Post-traumatic amnesia…” the old man whispered, almost to himself, almost as if he had received the news that he had been foreboding this entire time. 

The only sound was the throbbing of his eardrums. 

“...What,” the Captain of the Survey Corps finally said. 

“Do you recognize either of us?” the tall man said, speaking up for the first time. His voice was almost impossibly deep, and he was taller than Erwin, built broader as well. It was as if he was the size of three Levis. Despite the hour, he still looked wide awake and ready to set out for the day. Looking over a clipboard that was placed with the strange machines, a frown twisted the man’s face and he slammed it back down in frustration. He padded over to Levi, and Levi immediately tensed, as if preparing for the fight. 

“My name is Bruce,” he paused as if waiting for a shine of recognition in Levi’s eyes, but nothing, “That’s Alfred.” Then, as if scolding Levi like he was a _child_ , the man looked down in disappointment. “You were supposed to be _retired_. You were found at 2:00 last night bleeding out after a fight. My connections found you and called me, and we took you to the hospital. You’ve been asleep for three days. I’m assuming that none of this rings a bell.” 

He waited for a response, but Levi had only stayed quiet. 

“Your name is Levi Wayne. You’re currently in Wayne Manor in Gotham in New Jersey. I was your legal guardian until you turned of age.” 

Then he said the most uncharacteristic thing he had said in a while, even after learning about Titan-shifters, leaning that a girl could crystalize herself, learning that there were more of them. 

“...Huh?” 

~~_His name was Levi and he was Captain. His birthday was the 25th of December and it was the year 850. The last thing he remembered was Minister Nick’s murder. He had just gone to bed, and prepared for the next storm to come at him._ ~~

* * *

On another trip to the hospital, Levi rode in a _car_ for the first time, feeling immediately sick and scared at the speed Bruce was driving despite the many times Alfred said it was completely safe.

 _(“Perhaps you should try driving a bit slower,” Alfred said, taking notice of how Levi gripped his seat and the handlebar. “For Master Levi’s sake.”_ _  
__“If I drive any slower, Alfred, we might as well walk there,” Bruce snapped back.)_

After trying to wrangle with a stubborn Levi (really, he remembered that Levi had always been a bit difficult, but this was a whole new level), and finally getting him to relent to be checked up by a doctor, the man that had done the surgery confirmed that he had complete and total amnesia. 

Levi had managed to remember his name and other small facts about himself, basics such as counting or speaking, but strangely enough — did not recognize anything else, the worst case he had ever seen, the doctor recalled to Bruce. He didn’t remember his past, any person in his life, the world map, or was even familiar with any amount of technology that was developed after the Industrial Revolution. Normally amnesia patients would give them something, any hint of a previous life, but Levi lacked all of it. 

He wasn’t crazy, Levi affirmed to himself for the fiftieth time that hour. He wasn’t batshit insane, he repeated. He knew who he was, and all the people who said that they knew him — the man that had the audacity to say that he had raised him for eight whole years from ten to eighteen was pulling wool over his eyes. 

Luckily, no one treated him like a baby, no one acted as if he was an incapable brat, nor gave him pitying looks whenever he did leave his room (he had to slap himself upon realizing that this gigantic hall was all his and with an attached bathroom that had the largest tub and nonstop clean hot water). He felt the chill climb up his arms at the thought that these riches, this luxury was all his — after so many years of sleeping in dirt, becoming immune to the smell of piss and shit in the Underground — this wasn’t him. And no matter what they said, this was never going to be him. 

His meals were delivered to his door by the same man that had reached out to him that night, and after several days of holding out, looking for poisons or other toxins, his empty stomach finally protested enough for him to reach for the silver tray and marvel at the food that was presented to him. A large serving of proteins, sauces, and spices that he had never even heard of, and plentiful sugar in the dessert that the man supplied in the small dish. It was as if meat or sugar and salt was never a scarcity, that he didn’t have to rely on plain bread or boiled potatoes every day to fill up his stomach. Every morning, instead of the black tea he craved, he was given coffee, a drink that he had never heard of before, but one sip made him never try it again if the beating of his heart was any indication. 

The walk-in closet was filled with clothes that were a bit too young for his tastes, but if "he" had gone off on his own after he had turned eighteen it made sense that all that remained were these sets of dark, crisp clothes. In his hands were the smoothest silks, the softest shirts, and carefully pressed pants. He was too stubborn to go out and ask for more, but he was lucky that it appeared that he hadn’t grown vertically since then, if not for the slight tightness against his shoulders, thighs, and biceps. 

He spent his days reading, devouring books about the 800s, but all that came up was places he had never heard about such as England, China, the Byzantine Empire. Levi was lucky that whoever lived here before him enjoyed reading if the giant wall of nothing but books were any indication. ~~Levi pointedly ignored the pictures of what was clearly a younger him, the trophy shelves that held his name on golden figures that said “Gotham Academy Rugby Team Captain” or “Gotham Academy President’s List.”~~ After finally finding the word Titan, he was insanely frustrated beyond belief that they were not the man-eating monsters that he had known, nor did anyone else know about them, nor did he find any walls outside of his window. Instead, they were a series of fictional gods in classical Greek mythology. 

Research for things such as dimension travel, time travel, or different worlds had only yielded information from truly insane people. 

After so many dead-ends, after digging and digging and finding nothing, maybe Levi was crazy after all. 

He had no one to talk to, no one that had any indication, gave any sign that they knew what the hell he was talking about, and he had none of his former belongings. No 3DMG, no cape, no Wings of Freedom on his back. 

And all the terror that he went through, all of the deaths and disappointments that he went through ~~Petra, Eld, Gunther, Oluo, Isabel, Farlan, Kuchel~~ were all figments of his imagination and useless chains on his heart. 

Maybe everyone was right. 

He was batshit insane.

* * *

After the fifth day of his self-made prison, there was a knock on his door. 

The walls were impressively thick and the double doors were heavy, so when he heard conversation beyond his door, it was impossible to listen in on any of it, but he could tell that the voices were becoming concerned and harried. 

Whatever, they would have to fight him to leave his room. 

After the voices settled down, only one remained. It was young-sounding, almost like a fresh new set of cadets, and much more bright than the other two occupants in the manor. 

“Can I come in?” the voice asked. 

A careful “Tch” left his lips. This was the first time anyone had attempted to make communication with him after the visit to the doctor’s office, the strange place filled with stranger contraptions. He padded over to the door and threw it open. It was the first time someone had made contact. 

Behind the door was a young boy, probably around Jaeger’s age. His hair was a deep raven color, swept easily over his forehead and eyes while his irises were a bright blue. It was clear that the boy had some sense of training as well. He stood tall and proud, even taller than Levi at this point, and held a careful stance. 

“What,” the older man spat out. 

A brief flicker of hurt streaked across the boy's face before it left as soon as it came. “...I tried to come in as soon as I could,” he answered, pushing past Levi despite his objections and swept into the large room. The boy sat on the edge of the bed. Then, before Levi could argue further, maybe even kick the boy out, he said, “I tried to come when I got the news, but I needed to handle things with my squad first.” 

That was the first thread that was dangled in front of Levi’s eyes. 

“...Squad?” His grey eyes grew wider. Was this boy perhaps in whatever military there was in this world? It wouldn’t be too off if a teen was leading a team. After all, people died like flies out in the field and the teen walked with the ease of a trained fighter. 

“You don’t remember who I am,” the boy summarized after analyzing Levi carefully. 

“Amnesia, remember?” Levi spat bitterly, almost condescending toward the boy as if he was the one who was missing information. Swallowing slightly, the boy nodded and straightened his back. For a second, Levi thought that he was going to salute. 

“My name is Dick Grayson. Bruce took me in when I was nine. I live in California now though, so I left at an earlier age than you did.” He stopped, feeling a cork in his throat from the emotions that ran through him. His eyes were searching, looking at Levi up and down, looking for something that he would never find. “You were like a brother to me,” he finally admitted, softly. 

_“Big-bro-Levi!”_ a familiar voice rang in his head. 

“...What kind of dumbass parents name their kid Dick,” was the only thing that Levi managed to blurt out. 

A slightly sad, wary smile appeared on Dick’s face. “It’s short for Richard.” 

Levi scoffed. “That sounds jackshit like Richard.” Now he was glad for the large bed. When Levi sat down as well, there was a large berth of space between them. 

“I wonder if you just had that comment now that you’re amnesiac, or you’ve been holding it in this entire time,” the boy mused solemnly. 

Levi turned his head away. He wasn’t good with kids. He couldn’t handle anyone younger than the cadets, and even then he treated them all like crap. Here though, he didn’t have that control over him, the authority that made up for him being a hardass. He didn’t like how this brat, this stranger, was looking at him like how Isabel and Farlan looked at him. 

“You mentioned that you had a team,” Levi finally asked, eager to change the subject. 

“Yeah.” Dick nodded. “We came together a year ago, so it’s a bit too soon for me to leave them for a while, but I want to be here for your recovery. I don’t want them near the Wayne business either. Not for a while anyway.” 

“Go home, kid,” Levi said, pushing himself off the bed and over to the desk where he kept a pitcher of crystal clear water. “I’m not regaining my memories anytime soon.” He poured himself a cup. 

“But — “ His blue eyes became wider. 

“I mean it,” Levi stated, grey eyes peering into his. “I don’t know what the hell you’re expecting, but I’m not your brother. You’re at a dead end.” 

“Levi — !” The boy stood up suddenly. Levi didn’t like how casually he referred to him like they were friends or equals. Hurt then anger crossed his face as the boy's eyes flickered back and forth, attempting to read Levi for any sign. “I’m just trying to — “ 

“I don’t want or need your help,” Levi said calmly. He was not Levi “Wayne” or whatever this boy was expecting. He didn’t need some kid trying to turn him into something he wasn’t. “Get out.” 

Dick fumed. “I have a room here too, you know. I used to live here. I’ll come back tomorrow.” 

But Levi had already turned him out. His back was already facing the door and his eyes were already devouring another book. 

He only briefly recalled that the boy turned away and closed the door after him.

* * *

It was the tenth day and Levi finally relented. 

True to his word, Dick came over to his room and shoved his way in, whether it be from picking the lock or coming in through the window to pester Levi and it was starting to get on his nerves. Although Levi would rather die than admit it, it was working. The boy was a charming individual. Other than invading his room like he owned the place, he always knew the right boundaries that either made Levi snap or relent, and he always toed the line only to back up when things got too uneasy. Dick was intelligent as well and knew the right words that made Levi slip ever so slightly. His tenaciousness reminded him of some brats he knew in the past. 

Late at night, lying in bed and staring up at the gaudy chandelier, he wondered if he really did know the boy, if he did see him grow from the age of nine. Levi dug and dug, but nothing came up: no sense of familiarity or softness for the kid, yet the kid knew everything to make Levi have to beat back the urge to look at him as if he wasn’t anything but an annoying pest. 

He felt another impending migraine come up, and no amount of, admittedly really good, wine could solve it. It had been ages since he had a good cup of tea and he was too prideful to request for a cup. No, he told himself, doing that would mean giving in to these figures and bowing his head to them. It was nearly three in the morning, and the mansion was clearly dead silent and empty. He was worried for a second that Dick was going to come flying from the rafters now that Levi was finally stepping outside of his room for the first time in weeks like the boy was going to camp out in sheer stubbornness. 

After several seconds of nothing, no alarms, and no screaming kids, he let out a breath of relief and began leaving the room. 

The mansion was stupidly big. It was even larger than the castle that they kept Eren in and he only felt his irritation grow. 

How many rooms did those two people need? From what he knew, only Bruce and Alfred lived here, and he had already moved out to a location that they didn’t disclose to him “for his safety.” He didn’t understand how rich people lived. 

It took him about half an hour before he located the kitchens after winding down hallways and staircases. 

He knew what to expect when he said the word “kitchen.” A fire, a brick oven, a large pile of pots and pans, wooden workstations, and storage cabinets, but he found that this place was frustratingly different as well. He looked around for the tea first, but after pulling open a strange silver box that was oddly extremely cold inside, his headache grew. Levi searched and searched for a single tin of tea, opening cabinets, drawers, and turning racks, until he finally came across a small box that had the words “black tea” across it. Now — the kettle and the stove. 

There wasn’t any place for a fire underneath the stoves, and Levi was only able to pick it out because it was different in color from the marble tabletops. However, there were no divots or openings that he could light a match in. Instead, it was completely flat with only drawn white circles on the top. He assumed that’s where the pots and pans go, but he was only faced with knobs that he had no idea what to do with. 

Levi spun in place, trying to locate a kettle that he could make his tea with, but even the kettle-shaped object had a strange wire attached to it and was placed on a fitted platform with the same glowing window. He nearly wanted to tear at his hair. 

Why did everyone have to complicate everything in this damned place, he thought. He just wanted to make a cup of tea — a nice simple cup of tea — 

“I thought that it was strange someone was rummaging through the kitchen this late,” a voice said, forcing Levi to jump and swirl around in place. He had moved so silently that even Levi didn’t notice, and he berated himself for letting his guard down like that. The man flipped the lights on, illuminating the entire kitchen in a pure white glow. It was the older man, Alfred, he recalled. He was dressed in the suit again today, despite it being so late. Levi almost felt like a teenager being caught sneaking out, especially since he was only in a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants. Alfred gave Levi what he thought was a comforting smile. “Usually it’s only me that dares to traverse these parts. Master Levi, if you wanted any refreshments, you could’ve just asked me.” 

The captain stiffened up immediately. “Don’t call me that.” Being hailed with such authority, acting like he was in any place to be someone’s _master_ as if he was like the rest of the deadweight above the Underground who had people wait on them hand and foot. It made him physically ill. He wasn’t like any of them. He used to slay Titans for a living, not be fed grapes and wine. “And I can get it myself.” 

The man’s smile became more relaxed. “Of course, by all means.” He gestured in an “all yours” manner, referring to the entire kitchen. 

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against one of the countertops and stared off wistfully at the space in front of him, an amused smile on his face. 

_He was playing with Levi_ , knowing that with his amnesia he would have no idea how to use any of the appliances. 

“Why are you still here?” he finally spat out. 

“Why, if you happen to accidentally set something on fire, I sure hope to catch it before it burns the entire manor down,” Alfred chuckled. 

“If you know that I’m clueless as hell, why don’t you just say something,” he said curtly. 

“You were the one that insisted on doing it yourself,” but even as he said this, Alfred pushed off the tabletop and walked over to where Levi was standing in front of the electric kettle. Levi felt a tick grow on his forehead, but he was glad that the man had the nerve to parry back at him and didn’t brainlessly coddle him. 

“All electronic appliances will have this cord,” Alfred stated, but his tone wasn’t condescending, nor did he dumb down his words. “You plug this into the wall in the holes that look like this, called the outlet, and if you did a good job, it will light up — “ Numbers shone on the small window on the platform underneath the kettle. “Like so.

“This is an electric kettle, so you can control the temperature as well as how long you want your water to stay at that temperature with these buttons,” Alfred took the kettle off the hotplate and walked over to the water dispenser, filling it up to a suitable amount before bringing it back to the hotplate and clicking the knob. “Now, what type of tea would you like?” 

“Just — “ Levi shook the box. “Black.” What other flavors even existed in his homeworld? 

“As someone who is looking out for your well being…” Carefully, he reached out and plucked the box from Levi’s hands and he had half a mind to rip it back. “It’s much too late for black tea. The caffeine will keep you up later, and you need proper rest for a speedy recovery.” Levi opened his mouth, but the man repeated it firmly. For a second, a primitive part of his brain told him to stand down, almost like he was in front of a parent, even though he was sure that he could swipe one of the fancy knives from the stand and fight the man. “How about a tea that reduces anxiety and stress, to increase your melatonin levels.” This man was talking in another language, Levi thought. “I have with me chamomile and valerian, or would you prefer a blend that tastes the most similar to black tea?” 

“I don’t care.” Levi crossed his arms as Alfred easily moved throughout the kitchen, reaching for a cabinet that he stored in his memory for future reference. “As long as I get a tea that isn’t bitter as hell like the drink you always give me in the morning.” 

“Ah.” Alfred gave him a knowing smile as he pulled out a tin and scooped its contents into a teapot. “I was wondering when you were going to give in and tell me that.” 

That made Levi pause. His shoulders became slack. “You knew this entire time that I don’t like coffee.” 

“Of course I do!” Alfred said, almost as if Levi had insulted him. The machine behind Levi finally beeped after it reached the desired temperature. “I watched you grow up here, after all.” 

“Then why did you keep serving it to me,” the brunet grit out, feeling his nails dig in his palms. 

“If I just served you your tea, I wouldn’t be talking to you like this now, would I?” 

Everyone here was manipulative and stubborn lunatics, Levi thought. 

He poured the water into the pot and waited for it to steep. 

“You know — you’ve changed from the boy that Master Bruce brought back here,” Alfred said wistfully. “But in many ways, you’re still the same as ever.” Levi tried his best to tune the old man out, but with nothing to do and his tea held hostage, he was forced to listen. “I was nearly ghastly when he first brought you home; he said that he found you on the streets. You were the smallest thing, and I remember thinking to myself, ‘I’ve never seen someone so skinny before.’” 

The captain nearly rolled his eyes, already used to this type of hovel. He knew that he was a mess, a violent ball of anger when Kenny first picked him up, and he didn’t need anyone telling him who he was when he clearly already knew. 

“When Master Bruce first called me years ago to prepare a room for a young boy, I scolded him to hell and back for doing something so reckless. He just started… He had just started his side job and was in his twenties and in no condition to suddenly take in a child. But when I saw you for the first time, I told myself that I was going to dedicate myself to you in the same way that I did to Master Bruce, and just like I am doing with Master Richard.” 

“I never asked you to.” Levi gritted his teeth. His words pounded on his head like a hammer. Against his own wishes, he tried to imagine a life here. He tried to imagine being picked up by a wealthy man, living a life of comfort and ease, with no bloodshed, no lost family, but only came up with blanks. 

“I know.” Alfred gave him a small smile. “You said that back then as well. I did it because I wanted to.” Handing Levi a cup, he stood back, as if waiting for him to dash back into his room. The ceramic warmed up his hands immediately. “Because although I know you are confused and possibly angry, at us or at yourself, I’m uncertain, but the people in this house care about you. That might feel wrong to you, but it’s the factual truth.” 

He brought the cup to his mouth and a spark of recognition flashed through Alfred’s eyes at the sight of Levi grabbing the cup from the lip.

“You’ve always been very independent and a very smart individual. Much more level-headed than Master Bruce even though you two both get on my nerves on the best of days.” He laughed to himself. “I’m glad that despite everything that happened, you still remain that independent man that I saw grow up into a strong person. And, this is selfish of me, but I was always proud of you, especially when you decided to settle down and live a normal life away from the… family business.” The man paused, searching for the words. “I’ve always wanted more for you three than that.” 

_And that’s why he was disappointed to find out that Levi had gone off fighting again,_ went unsaid. 

Levi’s eyes narrowed. There it was again. Dick had mentioned something about the “Wayne business” as well, but no one ever bothered to help him connect the dots. When he opened his mouth to ask about it, a hulking figure appeared at the door. 

“Alfred,” Bruce said, voice low. “I called you several times, but you didn’t answer.” His dark eyes flitted from Alfred to Levi. “...I hope you weren’t wasting your time gossiping.” 

“I would like you to say that again to my face, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, finishing his own cup of tea and placing it in the sink. “I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Bruce nodded once and lumbered off. 

It was strange, he thought. Unlike Alfred or Dick, he had barely seen a hide nor hair of the man since his doctor’s visit. He scoffed inwardly. He believed that Bruce was supposed to be his main guardian and caretaker when he was a child, but it appeared that Bruce was only good for making himself scarce like Kenny. Whatever Alfred said, he didn’t need their care. Not when he was just going to be let down. He didn’t need fucking deadbeats. 

Bruce was still in his day clothes, and despite it being 3 AM, the man was covered in a sheen of sweat — and the faint smell of blood. Levi pondered briefly: perhaps the man had a gang. That wasn’t unheard of in Sina, or rather, Gotham, New Jersey, and it would explain his night escapades and the money. They would make him feel slightly better — that the money he was rolling in right now was dirty, it was the type of money someone like him deserved. 

“I’ll be off then, Master Levi,” Alfred said pleasantly. “After you’re finished you can just put it in the sink and I’ll take care of it later. If you have any more requests, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Levi barely heeded his words. 

Everyone here spoke as if they knew him so well — when he knew nothing about him. 

“Or we might run into each other again like this.”

* * *

“I can help you research,” Dick finally said, in another one of his attempts to get Levi to open up to him. “You’re always reading whenever I see you. I can tell you’re trying to look for something.” Levi stayed silent, but after so many attempts throughout the days, he knew that his facade was breaking and he was going to stop his game of the cold shoulder. The boy was bright. He had wide, open eyes and the same type of stubbornness that reminded him too much of Isabel with the composure and astuteness of Farlan. 

Levi paused at those thoughts, nearly crumpling the paper underneath his hands. 

He wasn’t Isabel and Farlan, and Levi didn’t need replacements. 

“I don’t know why you aren’t just Googling it,” Dick finally said. 

Levi nearly flinched and looked back at him for the first time. “...Did you just fucking sneeze?” 

“What?” Dick lifted his head up. “Right… You don’t know what Google is,” he said to himself. Walking around the room, he started opening up random drawers and storage boxes in his room (this wasn’t his room, he thought in the back of his head), quickly digging through his stuff and closing it just as fast. 

“Oi!” Levi nearly scampered up at his personal space being invaded. “What do you — “ 

“Here.” With both hands, Dick handed him a small, shiny box with a glass surface on one side and a metal surface on the other. 

“...What the hell is this.” 

Dick sighed, but in a way that a big brother would laugh at their younger one. Levi wasn’t sure what their age difference was, but he was almost positive that they had almost a decade apart, and in no way was a brat going to act as if Levi was the younger brother, even if Dick did tower over Levi already. 

“Alright,” Dick said, gesturing for him to settle down. “Let me try to explain this to you — “ Pressing the screen, Dick turned the glass side over and Levi nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized that the glass had converted to a mirror, reflecting his confused and aghast face back at him only for the screen to suddenly turn to a jumble of smaller boxes against a black photo. “That was facial recognition. You don’t remember your passcodes, so if you want to unlock any of your devices, wait for the camera — “ He pointed to the minuscule black dot at the top of the box. “To turn on, and you just show your face like that in order to gain access. This is your phone, specifically _yours_.” Dick emphasized. “So you probably have your notes or schedule in here. You should have contacts with all of your friends and family…” Dick was scrolling through Levi’s phone carelessly by now and easily slipped through his contacts. The boy clearly found something that he liked when he paused momentarily and a small smile appeard on his face. Shaking his head and sighing, he closed the tab and turned the screen back to Levi. “Maybe that would rejog your memory, but for now…” 

The next hour was spent with Dick teaching him how to use the Internet, showing him how his different apps worked and navigating him through search engines. He pointed out Wikipedia was a good place to find general information while showing him the deeper he got down the search results, the shadier the sites might be, so he should be aware of things like pop-ups and viruses. 

Levi was buzzing with questions: how the “camera” worked, how it knew his face enough to give him access, how the internet and world wide web worked, but for now, he was released into the wild of endless information. 

Dick settled down, finished with his spiel after a good hour had passed. A pleasant smile appeared on his face as he stepped back to give Levi space before settling on the man’s bed and scrolled around on his own phone, or at least what Levi assumed was his phone. It was black and yellow in a circular shape and the boy smiled at whatever antics he was reading. 

Levi’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, waiting, hesitant. 

“Why are you doing this,” he finally asked. Dick looked up at him, surprised. 

“What, lay on your bed?” He raised an eyebrow with a simple shrug. “I showered. It’s not like you don’t have space — “ 

“Why are you helping me. Why do you come here every day,” Levi elaborated. His darker eyes narrowed as he turned his chair to look at Dick. “You’re wasting your time, kid,” he eventually said. “You want your Levi back — whoever he is, but the Levi you want is not coming back,” he finished. No, Levi was sure of himself and who he was. Despite everyone around him telling him that he’s lost, that he didn’t have a proper grasp on reality, he was certain of himself. Levi of the Survey Corps. This boy and Alfred were scrambling around for a crumb of whoever Levi Wayne was. 

“I have no idea who you are,” Levi said resolutely. “To me, you’re nothing but an annoying stranger. I have no problems hurting you if I have to,” he said. 

To this, Dick surprisingly let out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s true that you can probably beat me in a fight one-on-one, but you can’t take both Bruce and me at the same time,” Dick said with confidence. “You’re probably out of practice too, old man,” he said this with a tone of fondness. “If what you told me months before was true.” 

A scoff attempted to rise out of Levi’s throat. Surely Bruce was a big guy, but he had handled larger opponents before, and the brat was merely half his age. To say with such confidence that they can take on Levi almost made a flash of pride flow through his head. 

“And it might be true — “ Dick finally continued. “The doctor doesn’t know when you’re going to regain your memories despite monitoring you, and your head trauma was pretty serious. We don’t know if you’re going to regain your memories,” he attempted to say this with a straight face, with strength, but Levi could tell from the slight wavering of his voice that it was an act. “But you’re still Levi in the end — and I still care about you.” 

“Like I said, kid, I’m not — “ 

“Do you think that’s going to change anything?” Dick snapped. “That I’m just going to drop everything? Even if you don’t remember anything — I do, and whether or not you go back to… ’normal’ doesn’t matter to me. In the end, you and I are still here.” 

Levi stayed silent. 

“And even if you weren’t Levi and you were a complete stranger…” Dick paused before shuffling over to the edge of the bed where Levi sat by his desk. “I’d still care.” That made Levi pause in his steps. 

“Because at the end of the day you’re a human,” Dick eventually said. “And I swore an oath to prove that humanity can be good.” 

Levi shifted in his seat, closing himself off to Dick. The teen’s shoulders slumped at the sight, but upon hearing something leave Levi’s lips, his head snapped up. 

“What?” Dick had to stop himself from invading the man’s personal space further. “What was that?” 

“I said, ‘thanks,’” Levi finally grumbled before turning around and placing a hand on Dick’s hair. “Brat.” 

. . .

Google searches of things such as “dimensional travel” and other attempts similar to it only yielded dead ends, theories, and further explanations from lunatics, and he was about to throw his phone across the room in frustration. 

Even the endless source of information had given him nothing at all. 

He went through searches such as “Trost” or “Wall Maria” and “Wall Rose” only to get search results about the Berlin Wall, the Great Wall of China, or Nördlingen. The last thing on his mental list was “Titans” and he had already mentally prepared himself for the failure. 

But upon typing in Titans, he wasn’t greeted with the image of Greek Myths or one of Saturn’s moons at the top of the results, but rather news stories that read out, “Titans take over Jump City!” and “Another Successful Win for the Teen Titans!” 

All of the dates were recent and all of the links were relevant. 

Immediately pressing on one of the links, Levi found that it wasn’t about the man-eating creatures that he had been so used to seeing, the story of monsters raviging the city like he was expecting, but rather a majority of the articles featured images of teenagers. A boy with raven hair in a green, red, and black suit. An incredibly tall orange girl with fiery hair. A dark-skinned man who was half metal with an artificial red lens for one of his eyes. A green boy who always smiled widely at the cameras. And a shorter girl who always hid her eyes and body with her large cloak. 

Levi skimmed every article, taking in the details about all of the fights that occurred between them and “villains” across the city. However, upon staring at the photo of the Teen Titans, he found himself staring at the picture of the main member. His eyes were fully covered by a black and white mask, but his hair was still styled the same, and the shape of his jaw gave everything away. 

It was too close to even be a coincidence. 

It was a perfect match between the picture and the boy in front of him. 

“You…” Levi finally said, turning around in his chair. He stomped over to the relaxing boy who had just been watching something on his phone. “What’s the meaning of this?” He turned his screen around. 

So the boy was a capable fighter, so much so that he commanded his own team and fought regularly. Levi almost wanted to slap his forehead at the dots connecting, all of the hints that the boy planted finally making sense. 

“...So it’s true,” the boy finally said, strangely serious. “I wasn’t sure, but it’s true that Bruce or Alfred never told you.” 

Levi clicked his tongue, nearly crushing the metal box in his hands. 

“That man is hardly ever around,” Levi spat out. “How would he be able to tell me anything.” Something flashed across Dick’s eyes at Levi’s words. 

“Yeah…” Dick relented. “Bruce does that a lot.” His voice became quieter, but his voice made it appear as if this was some kind of inside-joke between them. 

“Tell me what,” Levi pressed instead. His brain ran at a mile a minute. “That you and Bruce go around fighting criminals as a living?” 

Instead of fighting Titans they just go around fighting other humans? 

“You should sit down,” Dick sighed, sounding more relaxed than before. 

“I’m not going to — “ Levi attempted to say before Dick’s hand easily led him down to the bed. 

“No, it’s going to take a while,” Dick admitted, standing in front of Levi. Taking a mask out of his pockets, he placed it over his eyes, matching the images in the photos. Levi immediately wanted to ask questions. “To put it simply... we are vigilantes. And the Robins follow the Batman. I am the second Robin after my predecessor,” He held up his finger and pointed at Levi. 

“You. The first Robin, Levi Wayne.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi: *a hardass, a bad bitch, can fight an entire squad of trained people without blinking*  
> Alfred: *slightly upset with him*  
> Levi: *already grabbing his stuff* I have to get out of here.  
> That being said, Levi is a difficult character for me to portray, so please tell me what you think!


End file.
